Dead Girl Walking
by foreveryourss
Summary: The master mind criminal Moriarty had decreed it. She was marked. Left for Dead. Who knows what he had planned for her exit. Beat, bruised, put down in St. Bart's hall? Stuffed and mounted on his wall? 30 hours until she was gone how should she spend them? She was a dead girl walking. One-shot. Explicit Content.


The master mind criminal Moriarty had decreed it. She was marked. Left for Dead. Who knows what he had planned for her exit. Beat, bruised, put down in St. Bart's hall? Stuffed and mounted on his wall? 30 hours until she was gone how should she spend them? She was a dead girl walking.

Molly had decided after the first initial fear that she wasn't going down without some sort of fight left in her and she certainly wasn't going home to wait like cattle. She drank her way through the streets of London finally unafraid, if some murderer decided now would be the time and she his next victim it was probably a lot easier than what Moriarty had planned for night air was frosty, her ears and nose red from the cold, fingers numb and aching, she didn't care. She hadn't planned on actually going anywhere, she just walked and walked aimlessly letting her legs choose her path. They chose Sherlock. She found herself, 3am, outside of 221B Baker Street, all the lights were off. She had nothing to lose. On a previous case that she had accompanied, Sherlock had taught her how to pick locks she could put her skills to the test. Sherlock's apartment door was less complicated because she knew where he had hidden the extra key. He wasn't the only one who was observant.

She tumbled into the room less gracefully than she planned, creating a loud thud when her knees collided with the floor.

Before she could fully get back on her feet and with a flash of light and the distinctive click of a safety being removed from a gun Sherlock was in front of her, with a hard look and the gun directed right at her heart. Sherlock always knew how to hurt her heart. Molly's hair was a mess, falling in front of her face, make up faded and most likely smudged. He had never seen her like this. She had never let him see her like this. She had always been his prim and proper pathologist and sometimes ball of multicoloured wool from various cardigans and jumpers, never this.

She brushed her hair out of her face and looked up and him. He did not see his Molly, his Molly was vulnerable, petite, akin to a small field mouse. This was something different, this was a lioness, who had been caught in battle but still standing, still fighting. A survivor. Normally she would have been terrified and probably offended that Sherlock had pulled a gun on her but under the circumstances she thought that after she got what she came for she would ask him a favour involving that gun.

"Molly?" He asked bewildered at the sight of her, and especially at this time. Even the great detective could not deduce how or why she got here.

Molly took a breath ready to speak with pleases, thank yous, and politeness but she reconsidered, if any there were a time to be blunt it was this. "I'm sorry, but I really had to wake you; See, I decided I must ride you until I break you." Sherlock's eyes bulged out at her statement. In shock he didn't know what to say so she carried on. "Cause Moriarty says I have to go; You're my last meal on death row. Shut your mouth and lose your clothes!" She took slow steps towards him, adrenaline running through her veins, the sight of the roles being reversed Sherlock Holmes now being the small vulnerable mouse and her the lioness on the prowl. Sherlock was still standing, still in the same spot. It didn't take her long before she was near him, the closest they had ever been, so close she could feel his breath upon her skin as she snaked a hand into his curls. He made no objections. She let their noses touch and stared at him "Tonight I'm yours, I'm a dead girl walking."

He could see something new in Molly's eyes, want, lust, desperation. He embraced it.

Her hands on his chest guiding him back into his bedroom. "Let's go, you know the drill; I'm hot and pissed and on the pill." She kissed him lightly at first not sure what response she would encounter. He remained silent but submissive. She saw a softness in his eyes, like he knew, like he understood. Suddenly her determination faltered, the heat, passion and lust of the moment vanished away for just a few moments. "It's because you're beautiful. You say you're numb inside, but I can't agree. So if the world's doesn't understand you, I do and keep it all locked out there because in here it's beautiful."

"That works for me." Finally he speaks as her picks her up and throws her onto the bed and he joins her.

Their mouths meet quickly and clumsily, finding each other's mouths in the dim light, exploring each other's lips between bites and sucks of lower lips, tongues sliding in and tangling, hands touching everywhere they possibly can all the while clothes being peeled away leaving only skin.

She pinned him down, straddling him as she kissed him first on his lips, making her way lower down. Sherlock raised his hand above him grabbing the headboard as she griped his hard cock, moving upwards slowly, her hand gliding over the glistening tip. She moved her lips down and looked up at him devilishly as her tongue darted out to lip the precum. She wrapped one hand tight around the base and the other lightly at his balls as she dipped her head lower slowly teasing him before she started to bob and move her hands in synchronisation making Sherlock groan out profanities. Sherlock gripped the headboard with two hands now, thrusting his hips with her. It wasn't long before he begged her to stop otherwise the night would be over too soon.

She touched herself quickly making sure she was wet enough before positioning him at her entrance. She was on top so she had complete control. Control over Sherlock Holmes. She would revel in this. She lower her herself taking only the tip before raising her hip upward. Sherlock growled in frustration, grabbing her hips, digging in his fingers, almost forcing her down on to him but she resisted lowering herself just a tad lower than last time before raising her hips again, slowly taking him inch by inch. She only got so far before Sherlock had had enough of her teasing and flipped her over fully submerging himself within her. He paused for a moment feeling how tight she was around him, knowing fully well that if he carried on he would cum within seconds.

She held onto him closely before whispering dirtily in his ear "Get your ass in gear, make this whole world disappear." He didn't need anymore convincing, he placed one hand under her, grabbed her ass and mercilessly thrust himself inside of her loving the way she felt around him. Their first time was hard and rough "Fuck Sherlock!" She moaned. "Slap me! Pull my hair, touch me there and there and there" He complied happily with all her requests he would mark Molly as his, he planned on ruining men for her.

A few more hard thrusts from him and she was screaming his name as she came. He could feel her muscles clench around him making her seem even more tighter. She lifted her legs and crossed them around his torso making him slide in even deeper, he couldn't take much more of this, he pounded her hard and fast before stopping and shuddering in sweet release, his cock twitching inside of her as he came. He collapsed on top of her pumping slowly a few more times as he growled. Neither of them were certainly finished for the night.

The morning light shone through the windows of Sherlock's bedroom. Molly lay with her head on his chest and her leg draped over his. He stroked her hair and told her. "I will save you 're not a dead girl walking"


End file.
